Enchiladas are served three ways:
chicken in fiery coconut-habanero
sauce; sweet crab in poblano-pepper
crema; and vegetarian, featuring
grated zucchini, corn, spinach and
ricotta baked with smoky chipotle
crema. You can order them individually, or as a trio for $24. That’s serious
dinero, but the enchiladas are big and
satisfying. Being an avid carnivore,
I was surprised to find I liked the
vegetarian best.

Pozole, a traditional Mexican
hominy stew, was green with herbs,
rich with pork belly and briny with
littleneck clams. Among entrées, a
smoked, then roasted, bone-in chicken
breast had golden skin, tender meat and
a side of crunchy coconut-and-cabbage
slaw. Sweet, smoky, charred pineapple-and-cactus salsa lit up a moist, perfectly grilled pork chop that had been
bathed in a penetrating al pastor-style
marinade of pineapple purée, achiote,
cinnamon, cider vinegar and honey.

While some entrées come with
a vegetable, servers still cheerfully
push the à la carte sides. My favorites
included parfait of esquites (a lime-splashed Mexico City street snack of
layered corn, queso fresco and chipotle mayo); crocks dense with refried
beans or brothy with stewed black
beans; and a pan of honey-glazed,
lime-buttered cornbread that could
almost qualify as dessert.

You don’t want to miss the actual
desserts, whether cinnamon-sugared
fried churros with goat’s-milk caramel
or a sweet, soaked wedge of tres leches
cake. The jiggling cinnamon-cardamom
custard, topped with fresh berries and
maple granola, was almost healthful
in its restrained sweetness. Vanilla
ice cream, seemingly less sexy than
strawberry-basil or coconut-lime sorbet,
should not be missed for its deep ivory
hue and pure, rich vanilla-bean flavor.

A few items did fall short: a
chopped salad with too little dressing; ice-cold guacamole gratuitously
mixed with crabmeat; a fajita of tequi-la-lime shrimp that tasted of neither
tequila nor lime. Rellenitos, a smart
take on jalapeño poppers made with

No-Drive Drinking

For merrymaking on St. Patrick’s and other days and
nights, restaurants like Montvale’s Porter House roll out
the courtesy shuttle. BY MARY ANN CASTRONOVO FUSCO

“Step right this way—for the Magical
Mystery Tour!” called Dan Riecken from
the wheel of the minibus parked outside the Porter House, an Irish steak-house and cigar lounge in Montvale.

Six passengers clambered aboard,
chuckling at the driver’s jovial spiel.

It was a little after 11 PM on a Saturday
night. One rider tapped his smart-phone and, presto, the classic Beatles
tune filled the chilly air.

There was no mystery as to
destinations. The passenger who
had summoned the Beatles song on
his phone would be returned to the
Courtyard Marriott in Montvale, where
the minibus had picked him up hours
earlier. Three Porter House employees,
having finished their shifts, would be
dropped off at the Spring Valley, New
York, train station. This writer and her
husband were along for the ride and
would return to the restaurant for the
next run of what Riecken calls the
Porter House-pitality Bus.

Among revelers, the designated driver has become a kind of self-effacing
folk hero. But not every group lines up
an abstaining driver, and sometimes individuals drink more than they expected
to. To cover a variety of circumstances,
some unrelated to alcohol, Porter House
owner Fintan Seeley, a native of Carlow,
Ireland, created the restaurant’s shuttle
service last November.

“It gives customers that peace of
mind,” he says. “They feel like they
might be over the limit and just not PH
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